Bleeding Hearts
by CrzA
Summary: Soulmates are connections. As is in the name, it is a connection that goes as deep as the soul itself. Souls are shaped through life experiences. Brightened and nurtured by love and joy. Bent and broken by pain and misfortune. That connection is etched somewhere on his body, in his soulmate's handwriting: what bound them together by the string of fate.
1. Chapter 1

**NOTE: First of all, I want to say that I advise listening to the song What Is Love - Jaymes Young because it was what I listened to during the whole writing process and it is insanely fitting to the mood of the entire fic!**

 **Secondly, I'd like to thank art-by-kou and thalesienenbloo from tumblr for constantly supporting me through the writing process of this fic! Please check out their amazing art, they're an incredible source of inspiration!**

People say that there is a soulmate for everyone, but that is not really the case, just a fairy tale ending that parents tell their children to cling to. Hope of everlasting happiness. Nothing but wishful thinking, because not everyone had that luxury.

Some people were lucky enough to find theirs as early as their childhoods, true. But others, many more than society would care to admit, went through their entire lives without meeting them, without ever getting one to begin with. Soulmates aren't destined, they aren't born with their futures set in stone, because with free will come choices. And choices lead down branching paths that diverge from what might have been and has instead become. And even when it seems like there was no choice in the path taken, there is the influence of those around them. Human nature is volatile, so to think that anything can be predetermined is to fool oneself into believing there is a higher power deciding their every move.

But that is not how things work. No one is responsible for the lives they live except for themselves and those that pull the strings higher up in the societal food chain. There is no one behind the scenes of the fabrics of the universe to decide what is and what isn't. If there is anyone, they don't care enough to interfere. Weakness and strength, happiness and sadness, love and hate: concepts made by those who have the power to inflict them upon others. Soulmates are but another construct of this world and the next that bind them to the rules of life, whether those be fair or not.

Shouto knew this from the moment he was born, because he saw it every single day. How two people who the universe never deemed to be meant for each other were shackled together by the greed of someone more powerful. It didn't matter that one had no mark on their skin while the other longed for the one that stretched across her chest. It didn't matter that there was a soulmate waiting for her who was supposed to make her happy. Because destiny is not a thing that simply overpowers the wills of human wants.

Still, she believed, at least for a time, that there was a bigger plan somewhere in there. That there was love waiting for her, if only she could hold out with the children she bore and loved until then. She would tell Shouto, when the monster wasn't listening, everything she held onto to help her endure.

Soulmates are connections. As is in the name, it is a connection that goes as deep as the soul itself. Souls are shaped through life experiences. Brightened and nurtured by love and joy. Bent and broken by pain and misfortune. Throughout it all, someone out there may have a soul that mimics his own, and they will call for each other. It's a connection so strong that it breaks through the fabric of space and time, imbeds itself into his skin so that he never forgets that he is not alone. Someone out there understands him. Someone out there will love him for all that he is, because their souls are the same. Shared as one, through everything that shaped them into what they become. And that connection is etched somewhere on his body, in his soulmate's handwriting: a keepsake, something that will let him know what bound them together by the string of fate.

But Shouto did not believe in fate. And Shouto did not believe a love like that existed. Because all he knew was fire and hurt. His mother's and his sibling's love were the only ones he knew and even that was shattered by _that man_ who insisted that love was weakness. And Shouto could do nothing but believe it, because his mother's love for him hurt her. She tried to protect him, to stop the man she was bound to by none other than his own hands and not some soul mark, and he struck her down. Whatever resolve she may have had was slowly beaten out of her. And any belief Shouto may have had in her words was slowly beaten out of him.

The little shreds of hope he had of those tales being true were weakened by the slow decay of his mother's state. Her sweet smiles turned strained, her loving gazes turned colder than the ice she created and her warm embraces became few and far between.

The middle of the night was a time in which he was not tormented by his father's harsh training, a time in which he should be resting but was instead seeking his mother's love. Because he loved her too and that made him weak to his heart's whims. What he found was his mother crying, her soul aching as she held her hand against her chest where her soulmate's script lied. Shouto knew she was breaking with each day that passed, because there was no such thing as salvation in the twists and turns of life. Even if there was someone out there like her, who would love her forever and more, they weren't coming to save her.

Shouto thought that whoever her soulmate was, they didn't deserve it. He wanted to believe that there was happiness somewhere waiting for her and for him as well, but how could he when all he saw was her suffering and no one coming to stop it?

Each day that passed, with his training becoming more and more intense and the sweet moments where his mother sat by him and filled him with dreams of being a hero became more and more scarce, Shouto stopped believing. The last drop of his hopes vanished when his mother looked at him with eyes filled with nothing but fear. _That child's left side sometimes looks very unsightly to me._ Even the love she had for him was not strong enough to withstand the unbearable pressure of her hate for her captor. And Shouto was only a product of that hate, so she tried to cleanse him.

From that day forth, Shouto knew no love, he did not believe in happiness and he would never hope for a soulmate to save him. His mother had a soulmate and they gave her nothing but false hopes that ended up shattering her beyond repair. Shouto's life was nothing but hurt and fire, so he resolved to never use his. Because his mother had left him with a reminder that his left side was nothing but wrong, nothing but hate. And the only love he ever knew remained as a memory on his right side, the ice that was her only gift to him now that she was gone. That was the sole thing Shouto would ever trust and believe. That was the only love he would ever feel and even then, it was simply because he was only human and couldn't make himself stop.

Because love was meaningless when it brought only despair.

Hatred consumed him when his father acted as if his mother's fall into misery and despair was nothing but her own fault for being fooled by children's tales. _It's your fault._ Shouto may see the truth of the world and how wrong it was, but he was no fool to see that _he_ was part of the problem. Maybe if there weren't people like _him_ it wouldn't be this way, maybe those stories and those dreams of unconditional love could be a reality. But none of that mattered because it wasn't so, and no matter who was at fault, nothing would change.

Soulmates would not bring Shouto happiness, just the same as they hadn't his mother.

He was only proven right when not even the bandages over his eye had been removed and there was a black mark on his skin where there was nothing before. The characters stood out, dark and bold, screaming from the background of the pale skin of his right wrist and spelling out **PAIN**. It was like her ice spread through his veins and sunk its sharp claws into his heart. As if he wasn't already aware that his life was just that, as if he hadn't already been left with the scar to prove it, one that he would have to see for the rest of his existence any time he caught a glimpse of his reflection. The characters stared back at him, mocking him endlessly, laughing at his marred face even as the bandages still covered the ugly damage that was left behind. He hated it.

Shouto's first reaction was to rub at the spot to make it disappear, as if he had simply drawn on his skin with a pen and that alone was enough to get rid of it. But not only were the characters not his own, the strokes completely different from the disciplined way in which he was taught to write, they didn't budge despite the force with which he tried to make them go away. There wasn't even a hint of a smudge as he kept sliding his thumb over the black lines and tears of frustration sprung to the corners of his eyes as he rushed towards the bathroom.

With his wrist under the running water he continued to swipe his other hand across the writing, adding even soap to aid in his attempt. When that didn't work either, Shouto picked up a rough sponge and scrubbed until the skin turned pink and raw, but even then, the script remained. Biting the insides of his cheeks hard enough to draw the taste of iron, he continued to forcefully brush the sponge over his wrist to no avail. His hands were shaking now, from both anger and the ache that throbbed with each beat of his agitated heart and he went towards the kitchen.

There, he grabbed a steel wool scrub and rubbed into his skin until the running water turned pink with the blood that seeped from his scraping skin. Yet, when he took back the stained object, the writing was still etched into it, like a tattoo that had seeped through down to his very bones. In a fit of blind rage, Shouto picked up a knife to get rid of it at any cost only to be stopped by his older sister, screaming as she ran towards him and took the blade away before he could harm himself further.

She held him in his arms, in a way his mother might have done once in a past that seemed so far away, rocking him slowly from side to side as he stained the wooden floors with the scarlet tears that spilled from his wrist. His father didn't hear a word of what happened there, and he didn't question the bandage stained with blotches of red when he showed up for the training that didn't let up to give him time to heal.

Once all his wounds had recovered, the physical ones at least, the characters that his soulmate left him still glared at him and made him sick. Each time he saw them, he was once again reminded that everything about his life was wrong and there was nothing anyone could do about it. His soulmate had nothing to offer him but that. Pain. It couldn't be more fitting and he guessed that was the cruelty of this world, where soulmates stood for a promise of hope and happiness only to crush it to dust. He hated it. Shouto hated _them_.

A wristband adorned his right arm now. No one asked him why and it was better that way. He didn't want to look at what was beneath it and remember that his mother spent all of her life hoping for someone to save her and nobody came. He didn't want to keep staring at something that just made everything hurt more. Shouto resented his soulmate for even existing, he wished that their handwriting had never been tattooed onto his skin. So, he never took the wristband off except to shower and replaced it with another when it needed to be washed. He hid the pain away from his sight so that there was one less ugly thing for him to stare at on a daily basis.

He had a hard enough time having to look at his own face. At least this he could simply pretend didn't exist if he was careful about it. He could pretend he never really got a soulmate to begin with. Things would be easier that way.

But of course, life was unfair and no matter how much he hid away from it, that pain never really left him alone, and with each passing day, he resented his soulmate even more.

* * *

Quirkless. The day Izuku learned that he was born quirkless, when the doctor told him that all of his hopes and dreams were unachievable and he should simply give up on them, was the day that he learned what it felt like to truly hurt.

Scraped knees and hands from falling to the floor in his clumsy excitement as he played, the harsh words of his classmates' mockery and Kacchan's explosions burning into his skin, all of this paled in comparison to that. Izuku didn't think he had ever hurt as much as he did then, the tears that streamed down his freckled cheeks big and filled to the brim with unbearable sorrow. For as long as he could remember, a hero was what he had longed to be. And now he just had to accept that this dream would never really come true.

Even as he looked at his idol saving one hundred people by himself, with a radiant smile dancing on his lips, for the millionth time in his short life, he hurt. When he looked back at his mother, hoping for some sort of affirmation that he could still be like his hero, that he could still become everything that a true hero stood for, all he got was a pained _I'm sorry Izuku_. And it hurt.

It hurt to even think that all he had ever dreamed of was so impossibly out of reach. It hurt to believe that he could never hope for things to miraculously change and be granted a quirk. It crushed his spirit down to an infinity of broken pieces that even his mother couldn't seem to find it in herself to assure him that he could still be a hero. Weren't mothers supposed to support their children's dreams no matter what? Was Izuku not allowed to even cling to a sliver of hope?

He didn't know how long it was that cried, how his tiny body could even hold so many tears. He felt like his soul itself was being crushed under the unbelievable pain that was seeping deep into him. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt… Izuku couldn't even begin to imagine how to start picking up the shattered glass of his heart, let alone if it was even possible to put it back together.

His mother cried with him, just as torn, aching for him just the same as she held him tightly in her arms. Even if what he wanted to hear was not what she was telling him, Izuku knew that she loved him and only meant well, to protect him from the cruelty of the world outside and what it entailed to live in it. But still, he hurt, because he wanted to be better so badly, he wanted to live his life to its fullest by helping and saving people, bringing smiles to their faces with one of his own. But how could he do that when he was quirkless? And how could he do that when he himself was hurting so much it felt like his insides were burning with the crippling sadness that took hold of his heart?

And it was then, as he was descending into a whirlpool of despair, cradled by his mother's arms, that he saw it. Characters carved onto his skin, black as ink, looking like they were written with the greatest of care. For little more than a second, Izuku stopped crying, long enough to look through the blur of his tears and read **PAIN** written there. The fleeting moment of happiness that he felt at the discovery that he had a soulmate even though he was quirkless was quickly overshadowed by the meaning of that mark.

Izuku started crying anew, harder still than before, because _this_ was the moment he learned the true meaning of what was written across his right wrist. Being told he was quirkless and his dreams meaningless hurt badly and more than anything he had ever felt. But this… This was so much worse. Because he and his soulmate shared a connection, and that connection was forged through the pain they both felt, and once more Izuku hurt, and it was so much worse than before.

This anguish that was engraved in his very soul was one that his soulmate knew just as well and Izuku cried. This unbearable grief that suffocated him to the point that even the harsh gasps of breath he took didn't seem to be enough to fill his lungs was one that his soulmate shared. And Izuku screamed.

Izuku held onto his mother, crying bitter tears for his soulmate because they were hurting too. He didn't want them to hurt, he didn't want them to feel this way that he felt, so lost and so miserable. Izuku wanted to find his soulmate, he wanted to hold them the same way that his mother was holding him, and he wanted to make the pain go away. It might be the thing that connected them but Izuku wanted to make it better, yet he didn't know who his soulmate was and he didn't know where they were or why they were hurting. All he knew was that he wanted to lessen that burden no matter the cost.

He wanted to be a hero. Izuku had always wanted to be a hero from the moment he knew what that even meant, and he was hurt beyond belief when he was told that he could never hope to achieve that. His heart ached so badly still, but it didn't sting as horribly as knowing that his soulmate felt the same. So, even if the doctor told him he was quirkless, even if his mother believed that he should give up as well, Izuku decided as he wailed for his soulmate's sake, that he would never give up. No matter the cost, he would keep trying hard, he would keep working, more even than his peers, to achieve that dream.

Izuku _would_ become a hero. He _would_ find his soulmate. He _would_ save them from this pain that hurt them so. For their sake, Izuku would do anything, because they were connected through their agony and despite not knowing them or where they even were, he loved them. They shared this suffering and Izuku wanted nothing more than to help them through it.

From then on, Izuku's resolve only grew stronger. Each time that he was told he couldn't do it, was knocked down to the dirt, he picked himself up and tried again. Every time he cried from the way others treated him like he was useless and worthless, he rubbed his thumb over the characters his soulmate left him and he taught himself how to breathe again. The pain never really left him, not when people kept telling him that he was not good enough without a quirk, when his own friends laughed at him and hurt him because of it. But he looked at his wrist and he was once again reminded of why he wanted to be a hero. He wanted to help people, to save those who needed saving, he wanted people to stop hurting the way he did. The way his soulmate did.

For his soulmate's sake, he would never give up. Izuku wanted to be _their_ hero, to save _them_ from the torment that connected them in the first place. As each day passed, Izuku longed to help them even more. His heart continued to ache but he looked to his soulmate's script to remind himself of why it was worth it to keep going. He found strength in that pain.

The time he heard the words out of his childhood friend's mouth to just give up on everything, to give up on his life, Izuku's very soul hurt and he wondered fleetingly if his soulmate felt it too. He wanted to cry and never stop because sometimes it was just _so hard_ to stay strong, but he brushed the tips of his fingers over his right wrist and he kept moving forward.

Even as the corners of his vision blurred, sludge invading his lungs and making it impossible to breathe, Izuku thought of his soulmate and how he wasn't able to keep his promise to save them. He didn't want to die, he didn't want to give up. And as he struggled in the villain's grasp, clawing at anything he could but finding no purchase, his insides burning with the lack of breath he so desperately needed, the worst part was that he would die never having made his soulmate happy. The fear that they would remain with that pain forever was so much heavier than the one for his own life.

For the first time in so many years of pushing, Izuku truly felt useless.

Being met with his idol after thinking he had taken his last breath, his heart taken its last beat, Izuku couldn't help but feel the need for confirmation that all he'd been working towards wasn't for naught. He couldn't resist the overwhelming urge to hold on to the very last shred of hope that he could truly do this, that he could become a hero who could save people like he did, who could hope to find his soulmate and be able to tell them "It's fine now, because I am here".

The soul crushing agony of hearing from his biggest source of inspiration that his hopes were truly unachievable left him so utterly defeated, he wasn't sure he could keep going. Everything felt pointless, he felt useless and weak and defenceless, and his soulmate was still out there, _hurting_. Izuku felt responsible for them and for all of his shortcomings, unworthy of even having a soulmate to call his own.

When his legs took him to where the very person who told him that his life was best just thrown away, Izuku felt something in his chest that he couldn't begin to explain if he tried. He felt the weight of the characters engraved in his skin and he didn't think as his body propelled him forwards. He couldn't give up, couldn't throw all of his hard work away as if it was nothing. Not when there was someone out there that knew his pain and needed him, when there were people who needed saving and he wanted nothing more than to help them.

Izuku wanted to be a hero, but what truly made him one was that he couldn't give up if he tried. Because he couldn't think of himself when he saw his pain in someone else's eyes, that panic and that feeling of helplessness. As much as it hurt to keep getting knocked down no matter how many times he rose up from it, it hurt more to stay down. The mark on his wrist kept reminding him of what he needed to fight for. Izuku would endure all the pain the world threw at him if it meant that one day he would protect others from it, protect his soulmate from the anguish they felt.

When that opportunity he was so desperately searching for presented itself to him, he took it like the lifeline it really was and he worked even harder than before. He pushed himself to his limit and even over it, never giving in to despair when things seemed the bleakest. His body ached, his muscles complained endlessly and he exhausted himself to the point of shutting down completely. Izuku doubted himself nearly every step of the way, wondering if he could _really_ do this as the voices of those around him rung loudly in his mind, telling him he wasn't good enough. But the pain written across his skin helped him move forward, kept him from stopping dead in his tracks and pushed him towards the finish line.

Anxiety gripped his heart painfully, fear and insecurity sounded too familiar in his thoughts for him to truly let them go. When it seemed like everything was once again lost, all of the work he put into this one moment wasted as if it had never even come to pass, Izuku cried with his soulmate in his thoughts, a faceless soul he longed to hold in his arms and comfort. He held onto the hope they brought instead, and, in the end, it was with tears in his eyes that he learned it was all worth it in the end.

Izuku was so much closer to becoming a hero he could almost taste it. He held on to his wrist tightly, stroking the characters lovingly as he wished for his soulmate to wait just a little longer. _I will be your hero, I swear to you that I will find you and save you from that pain._

* * *

Shouto spent so long trying to erase his soulmate from his mind. The constant hiding of the markings on his skin was effective to the point that he hardly remembered the shape of the strokes, knowing only the characters that were there because they would never leave him. As much as he hid the mark, its meaning never really went away. It was a constant in his life, if one could even call it that.

Shouto existed to be Endeavor's weapon, to be his masterpiece, no more than an object, clay that could be moulded into any shape he deemed worthy. He tried to fight it, refused to use his father's power, only embracing the cold ice of his mother that encased his heart and soul. But even then, he was beaten into a model fighter. Using only his mother's power or not, Shouto was created for destruction and there was no room for anything other than pain and power. Frozen or not, Shouto still burned with anger and hatred, the only emotions nurtured in his household through an iron fist of violence.

His soulmate, no matter how hard Shouto tried to pretend they didn't exist, constantly laughed at his broken states behind a faceless mask that everyday looked more like that of Endeavor's. His mother's cries, his mother's bruises, her hopes and dreams were all burned into Shouto's mind, a brand that reminded him every single day of what soulmates _really_ meant. Broken promises, crushed faith, _pain_. There was nothing but pain and that mark was the very proof. Even if he never looked at it, even if when his eyes caught a glimpse of black in his reflection as he bathed, the characters blurred to nothing but a blotch. Out of sight, out of mind, but that wasn't the case. Pain was all that he knew and it was all that his soulmate had to offer him.

He had expected (not hoped, hope wasn't a part of Shouto's existence either) that talk and thoughts of soulmates wouldn't follow him to the most prestigious hero school in the country. If only because Endeavor thought much the same of the notion as Shouto did, the only thing he reluctantly agreed with. Enrolling him somewhere such concepts were thriving seemed like a foolish thing to do. But alas, teenagers, at least those who had a life unlike Shouto's, were filled with lies and deceptions on what this world truly stood for. And so, soulmates followed him even where he intended to focus on nothing more than becoming a hero who could take down the injustices that plagued his every day, make the world a less horrible place.

It seemed to be the first question after their name that his new classmates had was always whether they had a soulmate or not. When it got to his turn, Shouto thought of ignoring the questions all together, but with so many eyes on him, and all of them expectant, _eager_ , that hatred boiled deep within his veins and spread throughout his body, ice crawling up his side.

"Soulmates are nothing but pointless children's tales meant to appease snivelling brats who think the world has anything to offer other than hardships and despair. You should stop holding on to such ridiculous notions if you want to get anywhere in it." His words were muted but fuelled by anger and dripping with such a bitterness that anyone who was close enough to listen was left nothing short of appalled.

One of which, a short boy with bright green eyes and fluffy hair the same dark colour, looked away with a haunted expression, pain Shouto was much too familiar with ghosting across his features. _That one knows too but refuses to believe it._

After that, his classmates knew to stay away from him for the most part, especially those of them who had soul marks whose counterparts they had yet to meet. That was fine with Shouto, he hadn't come to this place to make friends. His resentment towards his circumstances wasn't something he had planned to advertise, but when people flaunted soul marks like badges of honour or symbols of hope for happiness, he had no way of stopping his glowers.

Only one other person seemed to have similar aversions for soulmates and his explosive nature and quick to violence responses reminded Shouto of his father a little too much for his taste. The ashy blonde seemed to stare in disgust at those who proudly wore their markings, and Shouto thought bitterly that maybe only those who were either broken by the unfairness of the world or had the power to ignore its structure could really understand. It was pretty clear which group he belonged to and which one his father wanted him to be part of.

Midoriya Izuku was another classmate that Shouto took notice of as time went by. He didn't particularly hide the fact that he had a soulmate, but he would keep the mark to himself too. Hidden away by his clothes or his own hand whenever anyone got too close. Pry as they might, those curious enough to ask never really got an answer as to what was on his skin and Shouto didn't exactly care. But there was something different about the way he acted towards soulmates, it wasn't with a lovesick wonder filled with delusions or with hatred, disgust or resentment.

There was a calm determination behind his eyes that Shouto noticed from afar whenever he gripped his forearm and clenched his jaw. It was something he did often, something that reminded him too much of the way his mother used to clutch her chest after being thrown to the ground for trying to protect him. Shouto hated seeing it, remembering how she drew strength from her mark only to be broken by it in the end. Holding on so tightly to something so foolish was bound to end in misery.

It always did.

Maybe it was for that exact reason that Shouto thought even more that this person All Might himself had taken interest in was someone he needed to defeat. In order to prove to his father that his mother's strength was all he needed to succeed and prove to the world that soulmates played no part in giving them that strength to begin with. Midoriya's constant clinging to his soulmate was something Shouto had vowed to never rely on and maybe that was why he felt the need to show him that it would bring about his fall.

After coming face to face with the raw power of that determination, Shouto pulled him aside to make his intentions perfectly clear in why he wanted to defeat him. He mentioned the circumstances of his parents' marriage and his own birth, his whole purpose for even existing and how his mother's hope for a soulmate that never came ultimately spelled out her demise. His hand reached for his face as the memory of scalding water burned on his skin and the pain written across his wrist throbbed with newfound fervour, as if begging to be remembered when he had never even forgot it.

Shouto's hands closed into fists when he saw Midoriya hold his arm, fingers brushing over the characters. He almost wanted to point out that he was making the exact same mistakes as his mother but instead started walking away with a few last words. Yet the other stopped him, still grasping his wrist when Shouto finally turned to look at him and saw that same unwavering determination in his eyes.

"My soulmate needs me and I won't let them down."

And that was the very first crack that appeared in Shouto's icy walls. Midoriya's strength didn't stem from the hope of being saved or finding happiness like everyone else. He found in his soulmate a resolve to keep fighting for their sake. Rather than depend on them to keep going, he kept going _for them_. That last sentence was what planted the seed of guilt in Shouto's heart.

That same day, through his words and his actions, Midoriya kept pummelling at Shouto's walls, he kept chipping at them, bit by bit, until he completely shattered them with a few simple words.

"It's _your_ power, isn't it?"

Suddenly, everything Shouto believed in was rendered completely meaningless, his father's treatment, his mother's pain as well as his own, all of that seemed to evaporate to mist. His whole agonising existence was nothing but white noise in the back of his head when he found himself smiling at the memories of his mother telling him he could be a hero if he wanted. Memories he had buried somewhere underneath all that hatred and fury, that ignited his soul anew and filled him with a warmth he hadn't felt for as long as he could remember. And all of that because Midoriya had the strength to give up on his chance to win in order to destroy his pain with a broken fist. For that moment, Shouto forgot why he held such a grudge against his soulmate and he forgot Endeavor even existed to begin with and was surprised to find he had tears in his eyes.

As sweet as that moment felt, to have all of the ice melt away, all of his walls broken, the second it was over Shouto was left with confusion and guilt. Feelings that started to consume him even when Midoriya called out for him to do his best. Midoriya who had given up his chance for him. He owed it to him to go with all of his power but that shame he felt was stronger than the sense of duty he held towards the other's encouraging words.

Shouto was plagued with doubts and guilt, memories long forgotten, now resurfaced, and he questioned everything. Midoriya's words, his eyes and his conviction swam around in his thoughts alongside his mother's smiles and warm embraces. But then, there were Endeavor's trainings and his mother's broken state of mind, there was her absent soulmate and Shouto's very own pain. Everything inside him was clashing, like fire and ice in a never-ending battle, his mother's love and his father's abuse, his own resolve and the guilt that ate away at him.

For the first time in ten years, Shouto removed the wristband on his wrist to actually look at it. His fingers passed over the black characters, feather light, and their meaning burned into his mind as he read them time and time again. The writing still hurt just as much to look at, even after all these years and the events that had just transpired, it still felt like a mockery from the universe itself.

Yet, looking at the script, he came to the conclusion that he needed to start making some changes. And when he visited his mother at the hospital after not once seeking her out of guilt for being the living proof of her abuse, she cried tears of joy when she saw his face. His wrist was once again covered and his mother never learned that he had a soulmate somewhere out there in the world. His heart was still too raw from the shattered ice crystals surrounding it, and the pain he knew was still too real for him to reject every belief he had held up until that point. But it was a start to a long journey Shouto had to make in figuring out what it was he truly believed in.

His whole life Shouto had hated his soulmate, he had hated his left side for the fact it was his old man's power it held, but Midoriya's confrontation had made him question all of that and now he felt lost. He had to discover how to become himself rather than his father's creation. It all started with Midoriya and those fateful words of his, and it continued with him when they faced death together.

In that moment, everything hung in the balance for them and, once more, Midoriya kept pushing through with his soulmate in his heart. Shouto couldn't help but admire the other's dedication to someone they had never even met, his willingness to go above and beyond to help someone he might never really meet to begin with. It was then that Shouto first wondered what it was that connected them, what it was that pushed him to become a hero for them. Whatever it was, it made Midoriya into an outstanding one. It made him into Shouto's own hero, as it was because of him he finally understood that maybe that promise soulmates stood for didn't lie in the other but in themselves.

The next time Shouto visited his mother, she cried once again as she held his right hand in her own, stroking the characters lovingly before moving her fingers to his face and doing the same. It was because of Midoriya's actions that Shouto got to finally see in his mother's eyes that, despite everything, she still held in her heart the hope of happiness. He saw in the way she still held her hand to her chest that her belief in her soulmate and their connection was still there somewhere.

She helped him sort through his thoughts, helped him see that even though he had gone through so much and spent such a long time consumed by his anguish, that he still had time to make things better. Shouto felt warm again in her arms as she helped him see that not all was lost and he could still start trying to shift his view of the world to something more positive. And for a moment, he wanted to believe that, with the help of his friends and especially Midoriya, he could learn to let go of his bitterness and start on his way to becoming a hero he could be proud of.

That all burned to ash when Shouto held Midoriya's notes in his hands one day and, staring at the careful and methodical strokes of the characters for a long time, he began noticing similarities. He realised with a start that Midoriya's soul mark was placed in the exact same spot as his own and when he saw 'pain' written in his literature notes there was no mistaking it for the same handwriting that was engraved on his wrist. Slowly closing the notebook and handing it back to its owner with a calm he didn't really feel, Shouto thanked him and walked away with blood draining from his face.

Once he was out of sight he ran to the bathroom to heave the bile that suddenly rose in his throat and he felt sicker than when Endeavor beat it out of him. His veins felt like they were frosting over, freezing him from the inside out as tears turned to crystal on his right cheek. Shouto was shaking violently, his chest aching with an unbearable guilt that knocked the breath right out of him and left him reeling.

The room became frosty and cold, like the freezing hands of death gripping his heart were drawing the ice out of him and spreading it around him. The reality of this discovery weighed on him, threatening to crush him, swallow him whole. He felt sick, he felt disgusting, Shouto felt like scrubbing the soul mark into a bloody mess all over again. But not because he hated his soulmate, no. Not anymore, not ever again.

Shouto had spent all those years hating them only to find out they were kind and gentle and hadn't gone through a single day without thinking of him. Midoriya had shared his pain ever since the day they were connected through it and he had gone through his life working to become his soulmate's hero. To become _his hero_. While Midoriya was selflessly working to find him and save him, Shouto had been hating his very existence without even knowing him. He didn't deserve someone like Midoriya as his soulmate. Shouto was unworthy of him. Shouto hated himself more than ever. After all he'd said and done, how could he ever face Midoriya as his soulmate?

 **NOTE: Hope you enjoyed that** **part, the second part won't be too long, do not fret!**

 **As always, feel free to leave any feedback you may have!**


	2. Chapter 2

Izuku had noticed there was something about Todoroki's aura that seemed to push people away from the moment he first laid eyes on him. His cold and aloof demeanour certainly made that much clearer, but it was his quick rise to an intimidating iciness when questioned about soulmates that really put any lingering doubts to rest.

His words were harsh and they were bitter, but Izuku could tell that he believed every single one of them and that made his chest squeeze painfully as he looked away. He felt the familiar prickle of tears in his eyes but fought them back as his fingers came to brush over the skin of his wrist and he took a deep breath.

Even though Todoroki wasn't aiming the speech directly at him, the words were like sharp knives stabbing into Izuku's heart one by one, gaping holes left behind that bled out his grief. Deep within him, the ghost of the day he was told to give up on his dreams gripped his soul with sharp claws and hungry teeth, tearing at him and leaving him shredded and bruised. To hear all over again that the reason he kept going was nothing but a lie or wishful thinking hurt just as much as it had the first time, if not more, being so much closer to achieving his dreams.

Wordlessly, calmly, Izuku tugged his sleeve up just a little, reading the mark left on his arm and once more burning it into his heart. This pain he felt, this pain his soulmate lived with too, it wasn't going to keep him down. It was a reminder that he had to get back up so that he could find them and help them.

For a second, Izuku looked back at his new classmate and, there in his downcast eyes and the taut line of his lips, he saw that same anguish he was so used to feeling. Whatever Todoroki's life had given him, Izuku thought for a fleeting moment that maybe they had something in common.

As time went on and Izuku kept observing his new classmates he noticed that Todoroki, whether he was alone or not, always looked incredibly lonely. He wanted to reach out, help lessen that feeling, but any time he tried, one frosty stare was all he needed to know he wasn't welcome. He noticed the glares Todoroki aimed at Kirishima's ribs anytime he had his hero costume, the soul mark spelling **INSECURITY** written in an angry scrawl that Izuku knew all too well but never mentioned, because it wasn't his place. He noticed the disapproving glances he sent Izuku's way whenever he caught him rubbing his thumb over his right wrist, likely not even realising he was doing it at all.

Todoroki's distaste of soulmates, though only actually voiced that one time during their first day, was something that clearly ran deep, a scar across his soul that probably hurt him more than the one on his face. Izuku's suspicions were only confirmed, while proven so wrong at the same time, when Todoroki told him why he meant to take him down for the whole stadium to see. His story was indeed a tragic one, just like Izuku thought, but it was so much worse than anything he could have imagined.

Yet as the other walked away after a long stare at the wrist Izuku was holding, he felt like he had to say something. Even though he didn't live through the horrors that Todoroki had, even though he had never been in his shoes, Izuku knew what it felt like to live with that kind of suffering that bled into the cracks in his soul. Izuku knew what it was like to be alone with no one to rely on but himself. But he found strength in the mark on his wrist because someone out there needed him to be strong. Izuku had something to prove too. Not just to All Might or to the world, but to his soulmate who was out there hurting. They each hurt alone, but they hurt together.

He would never give up. Izuku would _never_ let them down.

And as the fights went on down at the stadium, Izuku watched as Todoroki, overwhelming his opponent with astounding power, looked so miserable and small at the foot of a mountain of ice of his own making. It made his chest ache to witness such a scene, how his classmate seemed surrounded by the coldness he created, cut off from the rest of the world because he thought it was too painful to create ties that might soon be broken. Izuku couldn't shake the thought that he was completely shackled by his own pain, unable to see that it was holding him back and hurting him even more. Because those shackles were icy and biting into his soul mercilessly, killing it slowly with a frostbite that spread all around him and drained any warmth that might try to break through.

Izuku felt like he had to do something to help him, being all too familiar with that isolation that ate away at him and made everything bleak. And so, facing Todoroki head on and giving it his all, Izuku reached out towards him, taking those shackles and smashing them to a million pieces because he felt like it was the right thing to do. He wanted to win, wanted to show the world that he was going to be the next symbol of peace, but how was he supposed to do that while ignoring someone so clearly hurt standing right in front of him. Todoroki held himself back by his own self-imposed limits, refusing to accept his power as a whole because there was someone cruel enough to make him believe part of him was that of a monster. A victim of circumstance, he was swallowed by his own grief and blinded to the potential for good he had always held in his very hands, so Izuku screamed back at him the words he needed to hear.

When he saw Todoroki smile, the warmth he felt couldn't compare to the heat that spread from his left side as he came to life with a passionate flame. It was a warmth that pierced right through his heart and settled there, and Izuku smiled back, knowing the fight was settled but unable to find it in himself to care. Not when, for that one moment, the sadness disappeared from the mismatched eyes staring back at him, replaced by renewed resolve and peace. He would have to worry about the consequences later, because then, all he felt was this deep sense of accomplishment as he saw Todoroki unrestrained and free of his painful past. If only for just those few heartbeats, Izuku was happy that he could make him forget.

Todoroki's anguish was something that couldn't be dissolved with just a few words, however, and Izuku could tell that there was still a lot of conflict within him, especially when his flames died out in his next match even as Izuku encouraged him from above. Though, that moment started a chain reaction that, like a domino effect, took down wall by wall that Izuku had no doubt Todoroki had spent all his life building. His decision to intern for his father, after all he had gone through, so that he could learn how to control the left side he neglected for so long, only came to show the extent of his growth in just those short few days.

And it all culminated in the moment he came to Izuku and Iida's aid without hesitation, unwavering flame at the ready and an unquenchable need to help them all make it out alive. They fought together, and that night Izuku felt a connection between them that was only fortified by the threat of death looming over their heads menacingly. Just like before, when he thought he might die, Izuku thought of his soulmate, out there, needing him. But this time he wasn't standing alone, he was facing adversity with classmates, with _friends_ by his side, and it was a little easier to breathe and a little easier to fight. He wasn't powerless anymore, he wasn't alone either, and that made a difference.

It was an experience that brought them closer, to stare such odds in the face and make it out alive, having saved one life as well as managing to keep their own intact. After that, they all felt as if they shared something that ran a little deeper and Izuku couldn't help but smile as he saw Todoroki's hard exterior melt away little by little.

He kept trying to get closer and make him feel more accepted and accepting of himself, the cold aura that screamed at him to stay away no longer there to stop him. Now there was a calm flicker of warmth whenever he smiled at his friend and saw his eyes softening for barely a second. But it was there, and it was something. He tried to spend more time with Todoroki, offering him his support in a wordless reach for his friendship and was happy to see the other take it. They sat together during lunch, they exchanged training tips and sometimes studied together, Izuku even lending him his class notes as he went to take care of something else during their break.

The moment Todoroki returned the notebook and Izuku accepted it with a small smile, he could tell that something was off. Maybe it was in the way his voice had some of that icy touch dripping from it, or perhaps it was in the stiffness of his shoulders as he turned around and walked out of the room. It was as if all the progress they had made in their friendship the past month had suddenly cracked, the hands of time turning backwards to when Todoroki was standoffish and alone.

Because after that moment, even though he would still talk to Izuku, whenever he looked his way, Todoroki would hide. Any smiles he had to offer were met with a hardening of the other's stormy eyes and a clench of his jaw. If Izuku reached for him he would flinch away, the ghost of something horrific crossing his features half of a breath before morphing into a stone-faced expression.

Their interactions became stunted, any attempt Izuku made at getting closer was once again immediately shot down by Todoroki's evasion of his gaze. That warmth he felt before was slowly but surely shrinking back to a glacial breath that seeped into his bones and made him shiver in the loneliest of ways. The touch of his fingers to the characters on his wrist was the first one Izuku had felt ever since the night in Hosu and he realised with a start that Todoroki had been the reason.

The quiet support of his presence made it so that the pain he had learned to call a friend was simply a hushed whisper in the back of his mind. Though Izuku's soulmate never left his thoughts, the comfort he sought from that pain they shared was provided by Todoroki's small smiles. Ones that suddenly ceased, sweeping the ground right from beneath Izuku's feet the moment he realised how accustomed he'd grown to them.

Izuku could see the struggle in Todoroki's eyes, the way they darted around the room whenever they met his and how they always seemed to darken with something that he only recognised as shame. And now, as he brushed his thumb over his wrist, he saw the colour drain from Todoroki's face when he caught sight of it. As he watched him rush out of the room with nary a word, Izuku felt guilty, tugging the hem of his sleeve further down as he thought of Todoroki's history.

Downcast, Izuku reeled, their next classes rolling around and Todoroki's seat remaining empty.

At first, he thought this might come to pass, always aware of his movements and not once drawing attention to the markings on his skin to the point where he made an effort of hiding it. But not even that seemed to help things return back to the comfortable closeness they'd managed to build between them. The longer he waited for Todoroki to just work through whatever struggle he was dealing with that Izuku seemed to make worse, the more distant he grew.

It felt like the rejection of his peers all over again. The words 'quirkless', 'useless' and 'worthless' flooded his thoughts constantly and Izuku hurt. Coming home to sit in his empty room felt all too familiar as instead of using his free time to do things he enjoyed, he found himself sitting on his bed and staring at the floorboards, the darkness closing in around him. It had been a long time since he felt so alone, somehow not even the mark he held in his left hand making it any less suffocating. He didn't know why it hurt so badly, but all he could do was hug his knees to his chest and hope he wouldn't fall apart into a million pieces.

Though, Izuku was never really one for giving up or giving in, and even if he was wounded, he got back up because he wasn't the only one. In Todoroki's averting gazes he saw the shadows of his suffering, reflecting back a life of pain that Izuku wanted to ease. After all, wasn't that why he wanted to become a hero in the first place?

What hero could he ever hope to be if he couldn't even push past his pain to help his friend through his? How could he save his soulmate when he saw Todoroki's torment and turned a blind eye just because he tried to push him away?

When he saw Todoroki leave at lunch break, he followed him to the quiet corner of campus where he'd been eating the past days so that he wouldn't have to sit next to him. Wordlessly, Izuku sat by his side, digging some food out of his bag he'd asked his mother to prepare that morning and he ate. They didn't talk, but Izuku could feel the fixated stare on him as he silently chewed and swallowed. Todoroki didn't run and he didn't comment on Izuku's bandaged right wrist either and that was fine.

Once they finished eating, Izuku flipped through his class notes, taking the little free time to do some homework in advance while Todoroki simply sat and kept avoiding looking at him. And when the warning bell rang, Izuku grabbed his things and stood, waiting for Todoroki to do the same and they walked together back to class.

This continued for a couple of days. Todoroki would leave, Izuku would follow, they would sit and eat in silence and walk back side by side. Izuku still felt the cold settling in his stomach whenever the other looked away, he would still feel a pang in his chest each time he wanted him to say something but was met with nothing but the wind blowing past them. But he didn't give up, he waited patiently, offering his warmth to quell the bitter cold that radiated off of his friend in waves until that ice could eventually thaw.

Not everything could be solved by force and yelled encouragement. Sometimes it would take time, and Izuku was willing to endure if that meant Todoroki would be happier.

"Why are you doing this?"

Izuku stopped the food halfway to his mouth, slowly dropping it back to the bento box and looking at the white hairs falling over a grey eye that still wouldn't meet his. And even though he couldn't see it, Izuku offered him a smile. "Because I want to."

And that was all that happened differently that day yet he couldn't help the swarm of butterflies that suddenly rose inside him. It was small, barely even there, but it was progress. After nothing but silence, at last some words, a question which expected his answer, not a request for him to stop, a simple question of 'why'. Izuku saw in that an opportunity, another small crack in the walls Todoroki was trying to raise back up again.

The next day, he would steal glances of Todoroki's frame, still slightly hunched in on himself, eyes downcast and hairs falling over them, concealing most of his face. He would resist the almost overwhelming urge to reach for those strands and brush them away, to place a hand under his chin and make it so that he could look into those eyes he worked so hard to hide. If only just so he could tell him to open them when he looked in the mirror to see what he saw: a great hero in the making, someone who cared for justice and for his friends even though he didn't have many until recently.

Their eyes met for little more than half a second, as soon as Todoroki looked up he was looking back at his hands on his lap, his jaw tensed and his fists clenched. Izuku was going to look away, he _was_ going to go back to his passive presence of a silent ghost that he knew was there but didn't have to acknowledge. But when he saw Todoroki squeeze his eyes shut, it squeezed his heart in his chest how much hurt was hiding behind that one gesture. Before he could think, his right hand was already reaching for him.

He caught himself and retreated, shame flashing past his features as he held his hand close to where his heart beat hard and painfully against his ribcage. His breath got stuck in his throat when Todoroki opened his eyes and fixed them on his wrist, a million words left unsaid in the stormy skies of his soul, a trillion questions left unanswered and an infinite loop of pain and guilt.

"Why are you hiding it?"

"Because it pains you to see it."

His eyes drifted up and bore into Izuku's, and there, he saw so many things. He saw awe, he saw torture, he saw weakness and he saw strength, he saw fear, hope and despair, love and hate, sorrow and yearning. What two eyes held, what burden they carried, a weight so large that no two shoulders could ever hope to endure, no two legs could stand and not cave.

"Why are you so nice to me?" The voice was choked, as if the air he breathed was in no way enough to keep him afloat from this drowning of darkness that pulled him under.

"Because you deserve it."

Nothing else was said, no other sounds were heard but for the gentle breeze ruffling through the nearby leaves, but Izuku saw the growing wet patches on Todoroki's knees when he turned his head back down. He shuffled closer but not enough that they were touching. Izuku wanted to close that short distance, to stop the tears with his thumbs and wipe them away along with the pain behind them, but he stayed respectfully distant. His hands were resting over his knees and he was spreading the one closest to his friend, reaching as far as he dared to reach without overstepping.

The bell rung and they didn't move, they didn't talk. Izuku didn't cry even though he wanted to because his friend's tears were enough for the both of them. Izuku didn't hold his hand even though he wanted to because his friend's hand had to be the one to reach for his own. This was a step he had to take himself and that Izuku could not force no matter how badly he wanted to.

* * *

Shouto felt that, in much the same way as his outward appearance, his heart was split in two opposing halves. Part of him was begging for Midoriya to _stop, please stop_ while another wanted to scream _no, don't stop, please don't leave me alone_. He felt so cold, surrounded by a permanent state of darkness, as if everything around him was drained of any warmth, light, or colour. But when Midoriya was around, it was like a beam of sunshine breaking through the blinds on a window, so bright, so warm, so inviting.

Yet when he tried to reach for it, it burned and it spread through his skin like wildfire. Shouto was reminded that the darkness was where he had always lived, where he belonged. He had no right to be in Midoriya's light, something so pure could never be meant for a poisoned soul such as his own. The universe had made a mistake. They weren't the same. They couldn't be the same. No matter what any mark said, whatever it was supposed to mean, there was no possible way that Shouto could ever be anything like Midoriya.

He was just a bottomless pit of blackness, one that sucked anything that was remotely good into its orbit and consumed it until there was nothing left. He was scarred by hatred, broken by abuse, choked by guilt and buried in despair. His soul was made of tar, slimy, disgusting, rotten to the very core. Shouto had spent all of his breaths lacing them with hate for a soulmate that had done nothing to him but have the misfortune of being _his_ soulmate.

And his soulmate was Midoriya. Kind, persevering, strong, caring and loving Midoriya. Someone so pure, filled with the seedlings for joy that he planted in everyone he touched, and he was Shouto's soulmate. Shouto, who had held nothing but resentment towards him without knowing him, who had tried to rid himself of their connection the second it settled onto his skin. He had hidden it away as if it was some kind of offense when it was instead a promise. He had judged him for drawing strength from his mark when he had always been fighting for _his_ sake.

He was good. Midoriya was good and everything that Shouto wasn't. And yet, they were soulmates and Shouto felt like he didn't deserve it. Neither of them did. Shouto didn't deserve someone so kind and Midoriya didn't deserve someone so broken. Shouto deserved the loneliness and the cold burn of the ice around his heart and Midoriya deserved warmth and happiness, comfort.

Shouto felt sick any time he looked at Midoriya and saw him smile, he felt his blood running cold whenever his voice sounded near him and his heart nearly stopped when it called his name. There was nothing about Midoriya that could ever be like Shouto, much less his soul. His was a bright and inviting one, full of love and care and ready to give it away like he had an endless supply. Shouto had no right. He had no right to accept it. Which was why it made him nauseous to crave it.

 _Please, stop looking at me like that, like you_ _ **care**_ _. Leave me, go away and be happy._

 _Please, don't leave me alone, keep caring about_ _ **me**_ _. I'm here, it's me, please see me._

After so many years of denying its existence, for the first time since it appeared, Shouto held onto the mark on his wrist for support as the room around him became coated in ice that bit into his skin even through his clothes. He cried in silence because if anyone heard him cry all this ice would soon be melted in fits of someone else's fury and Shouto just wanted to weep in the solitude of his own hatred.

The frostbite that spread all through his right side crawled underneath his skin, it slowly crept into his heart and his lungs and made it hard to do anything but tremble. His tears froze on his right cheek and slipped down his chin from his left as he hugged his knees to his chest in the darkest corner of his room. The ice spread, and spread, and any warmth that Shouto may have had was drained by it. He shivered and he shook, but there were no sounds but the low cracks of the crystals growing around him.

Shouto felt cold and lonely, like breathing was a chore and painful to boot. He wanted this awful feeling of drowning out of water to go away, but at the same time he deserved every second of suffocating anguish that corroded him from the inside out. With each bitter tear the ice grew thicker and crawled further into his skin and for a moment, Shouto wondered what would happen if he just let the frost dig deeper into his heart.

He curled in on himself, quivering weakly, quietly weeping, and wondered if Midoriya would keep trying to find his soulmate if Shouto just suddenly vanished. He dared to entertain the idea of what it would be like to stop hurting, to stop feeling anything, to just stop _being_. He dared to think the slow burn of ice crawling up his veins was a sweet mercy that would release him from this misery and rid Midoriya of the burden of being his soulmate entirely. And he would never know.

He didn't have to know.

Yet, just as his breathing was slowing, just as his heart rate was becoming faint, Shouto thought of Midoriya endlessly searching, of him constantly fighting and _hoping_ to find his soulmate. He bit back on the sobs that wracked through his freezing body and let his ice melt little by little. His tears still froze on the way down, the room was still dark, and he still felt like he was alone. But at least his heart was still beating. At least he made it to see the next sunrise and let it burn him back to his feet.

Shouto made it back to school, back to class, back to where Midoriya's eager eyes were waiting and he felt sick all over again. His presence was like a constant reminder of what he could never, _should never_ hope to have. Hope was no longer in Shouto's vocabulary, and it was something he didn't deserve. Especially coming from Midoriya.

Guilt consumed him, it twisted his insides to unbearably tight knots and Midoriya was just always there. He was quiet, he wasn't forceful, he was just _there_. And Shouto hurt. Each time he let his eyes wander to him, he felt that freezing feeling washing over him and his breaths turn short. Shame sent chills down his spine and bile up his throat and he just wanted to know why.

Why someone like Midoriya was here with him. Why he was just there. Why he would hide something as precious to him as his soul mark all of a sudden. Why he was just so nice to him when he'd been distant, avoided him, _hurt him_. _Why, why, why… Just why…_

"Because you deserve it."

 _I don't. I don't deserve this. Why are you like this? Why are you just so kind? Why can't I just keep hating you? Why do you have to be so good?_

Shouto's vision blurred, his eyes unfocused on some point on the grassy ground and he felt the stinging tears rolling down his cheeks. They were hot and when they fell into his slightly parted mouth to allow the harsher breaths, they tasted as bitter as he felt, but they weren't freezing him for once. Not when Midoriya was around to thaw everything in his path.

It wasn't fair, but that was nothing new. The world had never been fair for a moment in his existence, but somehow this was the mother of all unfairness. That someone like Midoriya had to have someone like him as a soulmate. That the thing that connected them was pain and all Shouto did was add to it.

 _Why did it have to be you? Why did it have to be me? Why don't you hate me? Please just stop being so kind to me. Please don't stop, please stay. Look at_ _ **me**_ _. I'm here. Please, stop, go away._

He felt Midoriya's presence by his side, like a beacon of warmth, reaching out and begging to touch him. Shouto wanted to reach back so badly, he wanted to run and to never look back, he wanted to be held and he wanted to never be touched again. All he could do was sit there, in strangled silence, as the tears rolled off his hands when they fell from his cheeks and the wet spots spread on his trousers.

Every part of his being ached with the unbearable guilt he harboured. His chest felt tighter than ever before and his breaths became short and uneven, broken as they were between choked sobs he refused to let out. His silence was out of habit more than anything else, all of his tears quiet so that no one might see them, so that his father wouldn't punish him for them. But right here, the only person who could hear him was Midoriya, and somehow, that felt so much worse. He didn't want to bare his pain for him to see, not when it would likely hurt him too.

Shouto's pain was always on display, his face a testament to his truth that everyone chose to ignore. He was used to people looking, judging, whispering but never prying. Yet, the simple shed of his tears seemed too raw, too shameful, but only because it was Midoriya watching. The first person Shouto called a friend, who showed him nothing but kindness from the very beginning. And all he had to offer was suffering, the writing on both their wrists irrefutable proof.

He'd mistakenly assumed that his soulmate had nothing for him but that, yet it was him who was hurting him all along. That first day, his words had cut through Midoriya painfully, he'd seen it and he chose to ignore it, signing it off as something as unimportant as the fairy tales that everyone spent their lives hearing. He had disregarded his advances with cold stares, pushed him off with harsh words, challenged him for no reason other than to prove a point without considering his feelings at all.

And even then, Midoriya was kind and caring. He wanted to be his friend and to be there for him. _Why?_ _Why don't you hate me? Why do you treat me so kindly?_

His hands reached for his face so that he could cover his remorse and he hunched in on himself, trying to become as small as his body would let him. Shouto wanted to disappear, he wanted Midoriya to forget about him and stop hurting because of him, to stop hurting altogether. Shouto wanted Midoriya to never leave him and to share his warmth with him, to share in his pain and lessen his burden. He wanted him to never know that they were soulmates and he wanted him to see that the person he'd been searching for was falling apart right in front of him.

Shouto was split and it hurt beyond measure, like bursting at the seams, being pulled taut from both sides until he started to tear straight down the middle. The world started feeling smaller, the air heavier, his blood colder and everything around him was dark but for Midoriya's presence, always there, always warm and bright. Was this what it felt like to be close to the sun? Did it burn just as bad? Was it so tempting to just let himself be consumed in the flames?

After so many years of freezing cold, Shouto wanted to burn, like the day his fire was awakened by the very person who so selflessly gave him the spark he needed to ignite it and was now here with him. He wanted to reach out and touch that light so that he wouldn't be shrouded in the shadows of his grief. He was selfish, undeserving. How could he crave something so sweet? He had no right…

"It's okay."

That voice was so soft, so calm and wonderfully inviting. Shouto gritted his teeth and he trembled, the salty tracks on his cheeks renewed with the rush of tears that only seemed to grow larger and more urgent. He had no right to want to listen to it forever, to hear it tell him sweet lies that he could pretend to believe for as long as he was willing to say them.

 _I'm begging you to stop… I don't want to poison you…_

"Why… Just why…" Shouto's choked words sounded foreign to even his own ears and amidst so many whys he wasn't even sure which one he was asking for answers to. But his throat was closing and he could hardly breathe, let alone speak anything else.

"Because… no matter how much it hurts, it's okay to want it to stop."

Red-rimmed eyes rose to meet painfully glistening green ones to which the wobbly smile underneath barely managed to reach and Shouto's chest tightened further. _Why do you hurt so much for my sake?_

With his sorrow still rolling down his face, Shouto reached for the right hand that was still stretched towards him. He undid the bandage around his wrist with shaking fingers, tears staining the white gauze as he looked down and focused on the characters when they were finally free. He read the inscription over and over, recognising the way his hand could have easily put it there in careful strokes of a pen, black ink seeping into the skin forever.

The top of his head burned with the holes those eyes bore into it and he heard the gasp when he brushed the tips of his fingers over the script, feather light. The tears that still fell from the corners of his eyes dripped down onto Midoriya's wrist and he spread them with his thumb.

"I'm sorry… You don't deserve this…" He doesn't deserve to hurt, this pain that constantly haunted him from the inked characters that sat just underneath Shouto's fingers.

"It's not your fault." _But it is._

If Shouto didn't exist, maybe that mark would have never even appeared, maybe he wouldn't have to stare his pain in the face every single day. Maybe he would have had another soulmate, a better connection than this one laced with nothing but misery. _You were stronger than me. You never hid your pain until I looked at it and saw my own. You are so much better than me._

Midoriya's free fingers danced over the back of his hand, a gentle caress that almost seemed afraid. The quivering breath that passed through his lips drew Shouto's gaze back to his face and he saw two lone tears roll down his freckled cheeks.

"Sometimes life is unfair, and sometimes you feel like all this pain just isn't worth the effort…" He rasped, voice scratchy, forced and Shouto felt himself burn underneath the careful touch. "But you're not alone. You don't have to be alone in your suffering."

 _Someone out there understands him. Someone out there will love him for all that he is, because their souls are the same. Shared as one, through everything that shaped them into what they become._

Why did he have to be so understanding? Why did he have to know exactly how to cut into his wounds and carve out the festering flesh that bled into his soul and infected it? If they were supposed to understand each other, why was it that Shouto couldn't understand him? How could their souls be the same? Who would be so heartless to hurt someone like him to that point?

They weren't the same, they couldn't be. Their souls were like night and day, heaven and hell, the sun and the darkest side of the moon. What kind of cruel joke was this? To say someone so full of life and love had a similar soul to his own, that he would love him for all that he is. Shouto was unworthy of such wild fantasies, much more of the reality they may hold in Midoriya's eyes.

He didn't deserve such kindness when all he'd done was hate and resent. He didn't deserve such unconditional love when all he'd done was push him away and hide from his affectionate eyes. Midoriya owed him nothing, yet he gave and he gave and he gave. He didn't know Shouto was his soulmate yet he held nothing back, saved nothing for who he thought was out there waiting. He gave so selflessly even if that meant he would break and hurt himself time and time again for someone else's sake.

 _How can we be the same when all I ever did was take? I took your words, I took your friendship, I took your support and your warmth. You give so much and all I do is consume._

Shouto's hands tightened around Midoriya's wrist and his breath stuttered, a pained noise finally breaking free of his restraints, sounding just as harsh as his thoughts as he let his head fall back down. Fingers gingerly brushed over his cheek, a thumb wiping away a few of the tears that were starting to crystallise as they left his eye. He was once again torn between shying away and leaning into the touch, instead staying deathly still in his turmoil and aching terribly.

"Todoroki-kun…"

His name sounded wrong whispered so softly, slipping past Midoriya's lips in such a tender manner that it seemed almost like a prayer, begging him to look up. His touch felt like he was handling something precious, a glass figurine that could break into a million pieces if he dared to do it any more forcefully. Shouto felt fragile in his hands, already crumbling to dust, a simple breath enough to make him completely waste away into nothingness.

Choking back a sob, Shouto curled in on himself, his hair falling further over his red rimmed eyes as he blinked past the tears that dripped down onto Midoriya's arm and lap. He felt the hand on his cheek reach back, brushing white locks away to tuck them behind his ear. The gesture was slow, warm even against his ice-cold skin, another silent plea for him to stop hiding.

It was tempting, to just lay it all out in the open and feel free one more time, to feel warmth within and without and be unrestrained by the stains of his past. He wanted to forget again why he was always cold and alone, to look at his flames and not see the monster he's so scared of becoming, of already _being_. Midoriya had helped him forget once.

But now that he knew, every time Shouto looked into his eyes, he couldn't forget, because he saw reflected back at him what he was supposed to be. He looked into those eyes and he saw compassion, kindness, an overwhelming good-natured love that begged to be shared. And all he could think was how he was everything that Shouto wasn't. He was ashamed to look at him because he saw everything he wanted to have, everything he wanted to be, everything he would never deserve…

So, he looked down, he looked at the characters etched on Midoriya's wrist and tightened his hold even further. He might be hurting him at this point, but he didn't complain, he would never complain if he thought Shouto needed it and it speared through him. He burned painfully hot, like liquid fire licking through his veins and spilling out from his eyes to scorch marks onto his skin. It hurt all the way down to the centre of his chest, as if his soul was being carved out by those gentle hands that handled it with the greatest care.

It burned against the cold he felt so deep inside that he was so used to and it was too much. He shouldn't have let his head fall forward and onto Midoriya's shoulder. He should've got up and left him because he deserved better, not buried his face in the crook of his neck and let the fire hot tears burn him too. He shouldn't have let Midoriya's hand weave through his hair and pull him closer and he shouldn't have clung to his arm like it was the only thing keeping him from sinking into depths of despair.

" _Why…_ "

Shouto breathed the word so low even he might have missed it with his heart beating loudly in his ears. He felt rather than heard the hiccup that made the other's shoulders shake violently, felt the way his fingers curled and his nails dug into his scalp as Midoriya struggled to keep himself from falling apart too. _I keep hurting you…_

"Because I care. Because you're my _friend_. Because you deserve to have someone by your side. Because I want you to stop _suffering alone_." He took a shuddering breath that made Shouto shiver miserably. "I just want you to know that it's okay… I'm here for you… Just please let me be your friend…"

His jaw clenched and his heart hurt. How was it that Midoriya always seemed to know what words would break him the most? It was as if he had some sort of insight not even Shouto was aware of, something about him that only _he_ knew and allowed him to singlehandedly tear at walls arduously built, raise bridges in seconds that he could never hope to burn. Shouto was breaking apart, unable to fight against it anymore.

His hold on Midoriya's wrist was the only thing stopping him from completely disintegrating, his trembling hands clinging desperately to that lifeline and all of his thoughts ceasing but for one. _Please, don't leave me._ Shouto had no will left to listen to the part of him that still tugged him away from Midoriya, had no energy to resist the part that pushed him against the other, even if he still felt hopelessly torn between the two.

Maybe it was okay to split in twain. Maybe he could finally let the part that was holding him back die… If only it were that easy…

He was still revolted with himself, certain that he was unworthy of Midoriya's friendship, even more so of being his soulmate. Yet, just for this once, all he could do was cry into his neck as he felt his fingers tangle in his hair and his shoulders shake with tiny sobs he tried and failed to keep quiet. It hurt to know he was the cause for Midoriya's tears, but Shouto was too raw to stop even his own, let alone attempt to comfort anyone else.

He would never be able to give Midoriya the comfort he needed anyway. He took and he took, but he didn't know how to give, what to give. All he had to offer was his pain… That was all he would ever be able to provide. Midoriya deserved better than him, he deserved the best the world had to give and it hurt to know that he could never be that for him.

A string of apologies fell from his lips, so low he wasn't sure if they were even being heard. The only confirmation he got was Midoriya's whispered reply, a raspy "It's not your fault" that felt like another stab through Shouto's chest and he fell silent. No matter how much he begged for Midoriya's forgiveness, he would never get it, because in his eyes, Shouto had nothing to apologise for. If he knew, would he still be so kind? Would he still think that way?

The wristband felt heavy on Shouto's arm, like an even bigger burden than the meaning behind what it hid. He wondered if he would feel lighter if he got rid of it, this secret he was keeping from his soulmate, this lie he kept living to protect himself from the repercussions. He was so selfish. Midoriya wanted to find his soulmate and he was keeping it from him because he was too ashamed to let him know. He had the indecency of excusing it with the fact that he deserved better than him. Even if that was true, all Shouto was doing was hiding from his guilt.

It was hard to breathe under so much regret, under so much heartache, and Shouto wanted to let go of it all, but that would mean exposing it and he was scared. He was terrified that Midoriya would look at him and be as disgusted as he was. He deserved it, and he wanted him to be happy, which meant Shouto being away from him, out of his life. But he craved Midoriya's kindness, starved for it, and he was so unbearably afraid of losing it. Especially now that he was surrounded by its warmth, held tightly in its loving embrace.

Shouto was selfish, he was a coward and he was unworthy.

Yet he still let himself hold on to Midoriya's arm and bury his wet face in the crook of his neck. He still greedily took every caring word, every gentle brush of his fingers, every compassionate tear, every wracking sob. He took everything Midoriya gave like the parasite that he was and gave nothing but grief in return.

Shouto was despicable, he was rotten and he was broken without hope of ever being fixed. He was like a virus, consuming everything and leaving destruction in his wake. He had no right taking Midoriya's friendship and everything that came with it. But he was selfish so he kept doing it. He should tell him that he was his soulmate and accept his disgust and his hatred. But he was a coward so he kept hiding.

It was only by shamefully taking all of Midoriya's comfort that he managed to settle down his breaths and stop his quiet cries. Shouto drained all of his warmth and backed away without even meeting his eyes. He didn't even grace him with a word of thanks because his throat was still too closed up to even speak. But he didn't have to look at Midoriya's face to know that it was stained with the salty tracks of his own tears, he didn't have to say a word to know what he would say in return. _"I only did what you needed me to do."_

Midoriya gave him what he needed without expecting anything in return and Shouto felt even smaller than he already was. How could someone with such a big heart even exist in a cruel world such as this one? His mother was just like him and she was broken down into hurting her own child… Shouto was terrified of being the one to break Midoriya that badly. He wouldn't be able to live with himself.

Out of the corner of his tired eyes, Shouto saw Midoriya stand and offer him his right hand. He could see the scar that adorned it from the day he first cracked the ice in his soul. In that scar was the self-sacrifice Midoriya was so willing to go through for someone's sake, the compassion he held for the whole world and the desire to make it less horrible with that hand alone.

Shouto took it, like he took everything else Midoriya gave, he took the tearful smile and the small squeeze of his hand. He took his friendship too, with a miserable nod of his head, because that was the one request Midoriya had made. _"Just please let me be your friend…"_ Even his wants revolved around giving everything he had…

They parted ways at the exit of the school grounds. His insides burned the whole way to his house, his flames roared even against his father's furious ones, and his room didn't freeze that night. He'd taken all of Midoriya's warmth to fuel him and keep the cold out of his chest but given only anguished tears.

The next day, Shouto saw his mother. He stayed by the door to her room for the longest time, just staring at the handle and willing his hands to stop shaking. With one deep, quivering breath, he turned it and stepped into the pearly white room, the dim light coming from outside as dull as he felt. Like the time before, as soon as she laid eyes on him, his mother knew that something was off. He had just found out about Midoriya being his soulmate then, but he'd dismissed her worries and focused on other things. There was no reason to cause her any more distress, not when he was the cause of so much of her pain already.

However, this time, Midoriya's words rung loudly in his thoughts, telling him he didn't want him to suffer on his own. Shouto didn't know how else to suffer, he'd spent all of his years since his mother left crying on his own, licking his own wounds, just silently miserable so that he wouldn't make things worse. It was a lonely existence, but one in which only he got hurt.

Now, Midoriya insisted on being around him and being his friend, so he hurt him too. That was heart wrenching already, he didn't want to drag anyone else into his pain, much less his mother. She'd suffered enough. But was it really okay to ignore Midoriya's wishes? Why was it that he wanted nothing for himself, why did he have to be selfless?

He felt his eyes sting with the memory of the tears from the day before and his mother's fingers brushing the back of his hand just as gently as Midoriya had almost broke him all over again. But with a shuddering breath, Shouto raised his gaze to hers and, before her face started to blur, forced himself to tell her everything. He choked on his own tongue countless times, left sentences unfinished, stumbled on all of his words, and she listened in silence, her tender hold on his hand tightening the only indication that she was taking in every single one.

Once he finished, or rather, trailed off with a violent sob because he couldn't hold them back anymore, she pulled him into her arms and hushed him. Her slender fingers stroked his hair lovingly and he felt helpless once again. He didn't know how to handle kindness anymore, he'd only been taught to handle violence and abuse and he'd forgotten what it was like to be cared for. Perhaps that was why he felt so undeserving of it.

"My Shouto… My sweet boy…" Her voice was soft but laced with unshed tears and he tried to get himself together but there were too many pieces for him to put back. "You're holding so much sadness in your heart, you need to let it go. That's what your soulmate, your _friend_ wants."

Shouto couldn't say anything, he just hid his face in her chest and listened to her steady heartbeat, trying to time it with his breaths so that he wouldn't spin out of control. Everyone close to him was bound to suffer, how could he let go of his pain when it would just hurt those around him?

"Tell me Shouto… Would you rather have never met this boy?"

The question alone cut through him like a knife and he shuddered. It would have been better for Midoriya if he hadn't, he would've been better off never having known he existed… Wouldn't he?

" _My soulmate needs me and I won't let them down."_

 _God, I do, I need you. But you don't need me, you're so much stronger than I could ever be._

He shook his head slowly, accepting the truth of the matter. No matter what he thought, he couldn't imagine his life without Midoriya in it. He was the beacon of light that made the darkness a little less exhausting to tread through, the breath of fresh air that filled his lungs when he surfaced from deep within the dark waters of his grief. He would have rather died than to never have met him. He might as well have.

"And him, do you think he would rather not know you?" Shouto gripped her shirt tightly, a miserable whine leaving his lips as he nodded. "Is that what you really think or is it what you want to believe? My sweet boy, you're so caught up in hating yourself you can't see how much we love you…"

She kept petting his head slowly, hushing him when his breaths got too short and broken, rocking them slightly back and forth in a comforting motion that somehow seemed to help him. His mother was endlessly kind, just like Midoriya, willing to sacrifice her own wellbeing for those she cared about, to the point where she'd lost sight of herself entirely.

To this day, she had never found her soulmate and he still saw the forlorn longing in her eyes whenever she reached for her chest. He wondered momentarily if things would be different had she found them. Maybe she'd be happier, maybe she wouldn't be stuck in this place with nowhere else to go… And Shouto found himself thinking of Midoriya in her place, always searching and never finding, the toll that would take on him…

Even if he was unworthy, even if Midoriya might hate him after he knew, Shouto couldn't let him keep wandering aimlessly, searching for someone that was right there. He couldn't keep begging him to see it without telling him, couldn't keep hiding in plain sight and keeping him from what he wanted to achieve.

He was scared beyond reason, feeling the raging cold already gnawing at his insides and freezing him with paralysing fear. But he couldn't be a coward forever, not if he actually wanted to be a hero. He had to face his fears if he was ever going to face villains and protect anyone. It was almost funny, how it seemed to be easier to go straight into death's claws than to tell his soulmate who he really was. He could go head to head with a certified killer without question but to stand in front of the kindest person he'd met since his mother to tell him the truth made him sick to his stomach.

Forcing his gaze up to meet his mother's eyes Shouto trembled weakly. She smiled softly at him, her cold hands coming to brush the tears away from his cheeks, fingers coming dangerously close to the edge of his scar and he gasped. Her grey eyes turned sad and it gripped at Shouto's heart so tightly it got even harder to breathe. Without a word, she reached up, her thumb going over the bumpy skin so softly his desensitised nerves barely felt it, but his lids fluttered closed anyway.

"My dear Shouto... You've turned into such a beautiful young man... Inside and out... I'm so sorry that I wasn't there to see it, to help _you_ see it too..." When she paused, he risked a glance at her, seeing a crystal-clear bead roll down her face and leave a memory trailing behind. "Please, don't let your own fears hold you back. If you spend your whole life afraid of what ifs you will never get to know all the good the world has to offer. Don't make the same mistakes I did... Hold onto everything you care about with all you have. Promise me, Shouto..."

Choking back another sob, he nodded once again, not trusting his voice in the slightest as he squeezed his eyes shut and bit down on his bottom lip. With a small smile, she pulled him closer, leaving the softest kiss on his forehead that sent tendrils of warmth radiating through him. He leaned forward and held onto her for as long as he could, reluctantly letting go when he had to leave.

His mother sent him off with another kiss to his cheek, just over his scar, it was loving and tender and it made Shouto want to never leave, because in her arms, he felt safe. But the safety of her embrace wasn't a place where he could stay permanently. He had to go out into the world and face the truth, no matter how terrifying it may be, no matter how tempting living in sweet lies was. It suddenly made sense why people clung to the fairy tale endings and the childish notions that in finding one's soulmate their happiness was nothing short of guaranteed.

It was safe. It was comforting. But it wasn't real. Shouto couldn't afford to believe in silly stories, and he may not know what hope was anymore, but he had to tell Midoriya the truth because he deserved to know. Whatever happened after that, didn't really matter. He'd have to get through it one way or another, regardless of what Midoriya might do once he finally knew.

The thought alone consumed him the rest of the weekend, the mandatory training sessions becoming even more unbearable than usual when he was so distracted by what might come to pass he could barely focus on what was happening. Somehow, even that was less excruciating than the walk back to class the day after.

The whole way there, Shouto felt nauseous. Every step he took brought him closer to the classroom and made his chest a little tighter. By the time he stepped through the door he could hardly breathe and when his eyes landed on Midoriya it was all he could do to walk to his desk and sit down before the room started spinning out of control. He held his head in his hands, trying to stop the fit of panic before it began; before it made his legs take him away from there.

Shouto could _feel_ Midoriya's stare burning holes into him, he could sense the intensity behind it without even having to take one single glance. His blood was running cold, shivers running down his spine and making him tremble. His classmates were beginning to notice, they too were staring, but none of them mattered because it was like all of his senses were focused on Midoriya alone.

He had his eyes closed but it was like he could still see those emerald greens wide with concern, eyebrows furrowed to emphasise it, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth in a nervous tell. His breaths were so ragged they drowned out any sounds but for that of his heartbeat, but it was like he could hear Midoriya's voice telling him _It's okay_. The fear that froze him made his whole body feel numb but it was as if he could still feel Midoriya's hand on the back of his neck, his fingers gently carding through his locks in a comforting motion. Midoriya wasn't near him but somehow, he could still smell the sunshine in his hair as if he was still nuzzling his neck and weeping silently into it. He could already taste the salt of his tears even though they weren't streaming down his cheeks.

Getting himself together enough to make it through the classes was no easy task. His hands were constantly shaking, to the point that he kept dropping things and having people turn to pick them up for him. Some people asked him if he was alright because he looked paler than usual. He could feel the blood draining from his face each time he glanced at the clock and saw that lunch was increasingly closer.

When the bell finally rung loudly through the halls, the whole world got darker, the walls felt closer, and Shouto couldn't move if he tried. His muscles only decided to unlock when near everyone was gone and Midoriya's voice forced his eyes to lift from his desk. Their eyes met and each of his frantic heartbeats made the room warp further, breaths getting caught in his throat and the edges of his vision darkening.

Midoriya's hand reached for his left one gripping the desk tightly but stopped when he saw Shouto flinch. He backed away slightly, giving him space to breathe, and waited. Shouto wanted to get up and flee, to keep hiding behind that glass wall even if there were cracks all over it and a single blow could shatter them into nothingness. The last barrier between them and the truth and it was just as fragile as Shouto felt, exposed and ready to break.

Midoriya offered him one of his softest smiles, one that reached his eyes even as they glistened in the morning light with the threat of unshed tears. Shouto swallowed around the lump in his throat, trying to calm himself, but the deeper breaths he attempted to take, it seemed less air reached his lungs. _I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this._

His legs decided to start working then and he shot up from his seat, turning on his heel and starting towards the emptying hallways. He heard Midoriya call for him but didn't stop, just kept his speedy pace on his way to... Somewhere. He wasn't sure where his legs were taking him but it was away from the main building. Less and less people were around the longer he walked and Midoriya's voice turned to white noise underneath the deafening sound of his heart beating in his ears.

Shouto stopped dead in his tracks when he felt a hand wrapped around his right wrist, over the band there that still covered his secret. Twisting around, he pulled his hand away, held it to his chest with a terrified look taking over his features as he took in Midoriya's shell-shocked expression. It was only when he looked down that he saw the layer of frost covering over half of his forearm and he felt bile rising up in his throat.

Resisting the urge to heave, he immediately took Midoriya's frozen hand in his left to thaw the ice he'd put there, guilt washing over him so quickly his knees almost buckled underneath him. There was a hand on his arm, steadying him before he had the chance to fall and Shouto couldn't fathom how there could be someone so supportive in this world, selflessly offering him his friendship.

The wristband felt itchy on his skin then, heavy, like it was weighing him down more than the world resting on his shoulders. He looked into Midoriya's eyes, his own vision covering with black spots for a terrifyingly long second before he forced himself to breathe. _I can't do this but I have to._

Shouto dropped his arms to his sides, avoiding the other's gaze. He opened his mouth to speak but no words would come, his tongue tied. He almost expected Midoriya to say something, to tell him to just get it out, but like always, he waited patiently for him to be ready. Yet, ready was something that he would never be, he could wait forever and that moment would never come. It didn't matter though, this was something Shouto had to do, whether he was ready or not.

He fidgeted with the edges of the wristband, grasping at straws for any sort of purchase, wracking his brain for something to say, _anything at all_. Why was he so scared when Midoriya had never been anything but kind to him? This agonising doubt clung to him like a parasite feeding off of his anxiety and telling him that Midoriya could be kind but Shouto wouldn't deserve it. And after finding out he'd been hiding the truth, he would finally see it, he would leave him alone because that kindness wasn't meant for people like him.

"It's okay... Take all the time you need..."

Shouto hung his head and hunched his shoulders, clenching his jaw and fists alike. He was frustrated with himself, with his paralysing fear of what the truth might bring, scared of baring himself only to be left to pick up the pieces of his broken self on his own. Still, he had to do this.

He looked up past the hairs that covered most of his face, a bit of protection he would allow himself as he steadied his breaths and willed his heartrate to slow down. "I..."

The words turned to ash on his tongue when he saw the expectant gaze on Midoriya's face, just waiting eagerly for whatever Shouto had to say. He couldn't bring himself to get it out though, his throat closing up and choking him each time he tried again. But he had to do this, he _had_ to. So, if the words wouldn't come, Shouto resolved to try and use actions instead.

Gripping the wristband tightly between his fingers, he forced himself to slip it off, fighting against the locking of his muscles and pushing past the block that made his limbs so heavy, moving was a chore. His hands were shaking violently, his breaths shallow, and when he tried to turn his wrist towards Midoriya he couldn't stop his left hand from covering the characters. Even now he was still hiding, he was so close but still miles away. Shouto was so scared.

Gently, Midoriya placed his right hand over Shouto's left, the other coming to hold his arm underneath, fingers brushing the skin there so softly it made him shiver. He didn't pry his hand away or try to see what was underneath, just kept holding his hands with the utmost care while looking into his eyes. They whispered reassuring words without any sounds coming from him. _I'm here waiting for you as long as you need me to._

It felt like he was lifting the world itself when he took his hand away. Shouto shut his eyes then, bracing himself for the worst possible outcome. He shot them back open as soon as he heard Midoriya sniffling. Tears were streaming down his freckled cheeks in earnest and he was covering his mouth with his hands, eyes fixed on Shouto's wrist.

His stomach twisted up into knots, guilt suffocating him once more. All of his thoughts ceased when he felt arms snaking around his waist, suddenly Midoriya had his face nuzzled against his chest, hair tickling the base of his throat. Shouto tensed more than ever before, becoming stiff and standing as still as possible with his arms raised away from the other. His breath hitched, his eyes widened and for a split second Shouto almost tried to shove him away. Yet when he heard Midoriya mumble against his shirt, voice muffled and wet, he froze further.

"It really was you... You were right there this whole time... I'm so sorry that I didn't see it sooner..."

The shame he felt multiplied, that Midoriya would be apologising when he'd been the one to hide it from him in the first place. As if making him cry wasn't bad enough, the weight of his lie crushed him completely hearing him apologise for not seeing through it.

"I hope I can make up for all the time we lost..."

As soon as those words reached his ears, a sob broke through Shouto and his vision blurred, eyes prickling with tears threatening to spill. He couldn't keep them at bay much longer when he felt Midoriya's hold on him tighten, warmth spreading through his chest so gently that he felt like all of him was melting, limbs feeling boneless.

He couldn't resist the overwhelming desire to return the embrace, wrapping his arms around Midoriya's shoulders and burying his face in his soft wild locks. Shouto could hardly breathe, his heart still torn between holding on for dear life and pushing him away because he didn't deserve this bubbling feeling spreading through his chest. But his mother's wish was playing on repeat in his mind and he clung to Midoriya with everything he had, the tears matting in his forest-green hair as he pulled him as close as he could manage.

"Thank you... Thank you so much for telling me..."

Midoriya spoke softly and through strangled words, his fingers curling tightly around the fabric of his shirt. His hiccups shook them both, but Shouto wasn't sure if he wasn't contributing with some of his own. He felt unworthy of such gratitude, having kept this to himself for so long and tried to stay away from him as well. He didn't feel like he deserved this warm embrace even though he needed it so badly, certain that he would have collapsed by now were it not for Midoriya supporting him.

Shouto trembled weakly when the other backed away slightly, reluctant to let go but resigning to bring his arms back to his sides while Midoriya rubbed the tears away with the back of his own. The beaming smile that stretched across his lips was almost blinding, Shouto's chest filling with a thousand fluttering butterflies at the sight, the red-rimmed eyes doing nothing to take away from its wonder.

He didn't know how or why Midoriya could look so happy with the evidence of tears still in his eyes, especially when Shouto had just told him that he'd been hiding something he so desperately wanted to know. He didn't deserve that understanding gaze or the shy way he reached for his right hand. He still felt the seed of joy flourishing within him, however, still let him take his hand and tenderly run his fingers over his own script with a soft smile gracing his lips.

In that moment, Shouto felt at peace. Once more, Midoriya made him forget anything that wasn't him, his eyes, his smile, his gentle way of caring relentlessly. His words were the only thing in his thoughts, his touch the only thing he could focus on. Breathing him in was the only thing he needed to survive and his friendship was the only thing he was afraid of losing anymore. Yet he wasn't scared when Midoriya was so kindly holding his soul with the look of someone who never wanted to let go either.

They might be nothing alike in Shouto's eyes, but the way Midoriya looked at the mark on his skin made him feel free. Maybe they weren't the same but perhaps they weren't so different. Shouto held out his free hand to bring Midoriya's own closer. They held their wrists side by side, seeing each other's handwriting on the other's wrist and committing the image to memory.

His breath got caught in his throat anew when Midoriya's thumb brushed against the black characters once more. Shouto looked at their counterpart and read their meaning time and time again, shakily mimicking his soulmate's action and wondering… _What hurt you so badly that it crushed your wonderful soul to the point we'd be connected?_

Whatever it was, Shouto thought Midoriya didn't deserve it. He wanted to ask but words still failed him, so he stayed in respectful silence, trying not to dwell on all the doubt that still plagued him, all the guilt he didn't know how to begin to let go of. His name, softer than he'd ever heard it said, a whispered prayer calling for his attention, pried his gaze up meet Midoriya's.

His right hand slowly slipped away from Shouto's careful hold, raising towards his face but stopping short of actually touching him. There was a plea in his eyes, and Shouto would've done anything he wanted when faced with that expression, desperate to do something to make up for all that he'd taken so greedily.

So, bringing his own hand to wrap around Midoriya's wrist, he brought their hands to his cheek, leaning against the other's palm ever so slightly and letting his grip slacken. Midoriya's fingers danced shyly across his scarred cheek, feeling every little rise and fall with feather-light touches before tangling in his hair.

"I can't even begin to imagine the pain you've endured. I only wish to be able to lessen that burden, make your life a little less dark…"

 _You already do._ Shouto wanted to say it, but his throat was still too tight so he just closed his eyes with a shuddering breath and focused on the feeling of Midoriya's fingernails scraping against his scalp affectionately. His lids fluttered back open as he felt him take his right hand and press its palm against his own chest. Shouto could feel his heart pitter-pattering against his ribcage beneath his fingers, somewhat frantic.

"I can see how hard you struggle with seeing the good within you..." The hand in Shouto's hair slid down his face once more, coming to rest over his heart too. "It's okay to love yourself... But if sometimes you find it too hard, just know that I'll always be right here to love you."

Shouto stopped believing in unconditional love so long ago that the concept had become so fuzzy he'd almost forgotten it entirely, a forged memory he somehow knew wasn't his own. But Midoriya's words sparked a small fire within his soul, his selfless way of giving everything he had to offer so readily engraving a new set of lines somewhere deep inside him. Even if they weren't visibly written on his skin in a permanent ink, they spelled out **JOY** and **COMFORT** , things that Midoriya taught him all over again after he'd forgotten they even existed.

Fear and pain were still lurking just beneath his skin, anxiety and guilt still ate away at his insides and left him feeling sick. But just like his mother made him promise, Shouto gripped Midoriya as tightly as he could, because he never wanted to let go even if he still believed it was the best thing for him. Even if Midoriya's love was as selfless as they come, he was willing to teach him that, sometimes, it was okay to be a little selfish.

 **NOTE: And that was that! Shouto still has a long way to go and Izuku is more than willing to help him through every single step of the way! I might eventaully write some short one-shots in this universe in the future, who knows!**

 **I hope you enjoyed the conclusion, thank you so much for reading, and, as always, feel free to leave any feedback you may have! ^-^**


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